


Just Wanna Be With You

by Foxcanoes, jadedlilian



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: 69ing, BECAUSE BISEXUAL JAKE IS CANON BINCHES, Bi!Jake, Biting, Doggy Style, F/M, Fingering, Get Together, Hickeys, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Smut, Smut and Fluff, THIS FIC GOT AWAY FROM ME MAN, Teasing, Um???, all the sex, also, but like, for u fuckin sinners out there, g o d im s o, it started out as smut fic how did it end up like this (it was only smut fic) IT WAS ONLY SMUT FIC, literally this is...... 27 pages in goog docs of sin, may jesus have mercy on my soul, ok anyhoo, ok i should probs mention all the shit in this fic, same, same jake, smut and feelings, so much sex, sorry - Freeform, sorta - Freeform, unprotected sex, welcome to... the massage fic binches, wow im so fucking terrible dhjksahdk, youll see how
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxcanoes/pseuds/Foxcanoes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadedlilian/pseuds/jadedlilian
Summary: After he lets a perp get away, Jake Peralta is convinced that he's getting old and losing his touch. Amy convinces him he isn't.





	Just Wanna Be With You

**Author's Note:**

> OK I LITERALLY?? OWE THE BIGGEST FUCKING THANK YOUS TO @jadedlilian and @sgtamessantiago BECAUSE WITHOUT THEM THIS FIC WOULDVE NEVER LIVED TO SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY!!!! Jadedlilian gave me a lot of the ideas and helped with editing and Sgtamessantiago helped me to turn this mediocre stick figure into an actual work of art with all of her fantastic additions and thoughts so bless both ur hearts tbh  
> ALSO GO CHECK THEIR STUFF>?? bc theyre both hella talented and we are the Sin Squad, bringing u that Sin 24/7
> 
> Also also don't worry about what a Code 4A means, it gets explained. Also, don't worry whether it's used in correct context. It probably isnt. Anyhoo enjoy :-)

Jake Peralta may be many things, but he is definitely  _ not  _ old. He prides himself on this fact, actually. He’s spent his whole life not being old, and there’s no way he’s going to stop now, thank you very much. This is what he keeps telling himself as he chases Stan “Spray Stan” Oswald, a known graffiti artist and vandal, through the streets of Brooklyn. The guy can’t be any older than twenty three, but his record reads like that of a criminal who’s been at his craft for decades. He’s defiled several public properties, city landmarks, and multiple police vehicles, but has somehow managed to avoid being caught.  _ Until now,  _ Jake thinks cockily as he pursues Oswald, who is, for the record, making this much harder than it needs to be. 

“Give it up, Stan! I’m gonna catch you! Just… run  _ slower _ !” Jake can feel his heart pumping with adrenaline against his ribcage, can feel his lungs starting to singe, can feel the slight stitch in his side and the mild ache in his lower back as he keeps running. His breath is coming in heavy pants, there’s sweat dripping from his forehead (he had to find this guy in the middle of  _ July _ ), and h e can’t even remember how long he’s been chasing this kid; all he knows is the back of the kid’s jacket keeps getting smaller and smaller in his line of sight.

“Just try to catch me, asshole!” Stan yells before laughing and turning a corner, tipping a trashcan behind him right in Jake’s path. Jake stumbles over the trashcan and nearly falls, just barely catching himself on the wall to his left, which gives Oswald just enough time to glance back and snicker before turning the corner. 

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, scrambling along the wall as he regains his footing before continuing his hunt. At this point, his lungs feel like overblown balloons, breaths coming in big, heaving puffs. The stitch in his side is now a full blown tear, and his face is flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead, but he’ll be damned if he lets being a little out of shape stop him from catching his perp. His lower back is pleading with his legs to stop their assault, but his feet keep pounding the pavement regardless, determination etched into the lines of his face. Stan is about twenty five yards ahead of him now, but Jake knows exactly where they’re headed. Like a sheepdog, he’s been herding Stan into a long alley marked halfway through by a tall chain link fence, and if Jake can just lead him to that fence, he can catch up to him and cuff him before Oswald has the chance to climb it. 

Thankfully, Oswald takes the bait and turns right into the alleyway, and Jake mentally cheers as he follows him in.

“It’s over Oswald!” Jake huffs when he realizes the kid is planning to climb the fence. He doesn’t slow down at all, totally unperturbed by the sight of the fence. In fact, he seems to somehow run faster, and Jake roars in frustration as he tries to catch up. He’s probably about forty or fifty feet from Stan at this point, and he thinks he’s gonna finally catch him, but Stan takes a running leap at the fence and lands nearly halfway up the thing. “Damn it!” Jake yells, growling as he nears the gate, but it’s too late. The kid is already at the top and jumping down the other side, laughing and running away while waving at Jake by the time he gets to the gate, and he knows he’s not going to make it over with nearly as much grace. Momentum makes Jake runs into the fence, clutching at it and swearing as he tries to catch his breath, Oswald swiftly disappearing around the corner at the other end of the alley. “Fuck! Who is that kid, Spider-man?!” He slams his fist against the fence, infuriated, embarrassed, and feeling like he just got hit by a twenty-three-year-old truck. After a moment spent trying to catch his breath, he turns back toward the entrance of the alley, back resting on the chain link fence, before crumpling to the ground in exhaustion and calling for a Code 4A on his intercom.

..

Jake finally makes his way back to the precinct, still overheated and disheveled but with his breathing and his heart rate back to normal. He takes the walk of shame from the elevator to his desk chair, keenly aware that every eye in the precinct follows him closely as he flops down into his seat with a big, sharp exhale dripping with irritation. 

“Where’s Oswald?” Amy asks after a moment, sounding bewildered by Jake’s moodiness. He turns to her with a deadpanned pout, knowing by the twitch in her brow that he must look like a little kid who was just told he can’t have a cookie before dinner, and he’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so angry. 

“He got away,” Jake huffs, running his hand through his hair, which is still a matted mess from the chase.

“What?! How?” Amy exclaims in surprise.

Jake grumbles, legs twitching restlessly beneath the desk and begrudgingly, he explains the whole story while Amy, Charles, and Rosa gather around his desk and listen intently.

“Dude, no big deal, we’ll catch him,” Rosa says once he’s finished and glaring moodily at his keyboard.

“Sounds like that was a long chase. How many blocks did you run?” Charles asks with palpable concern for his friend’s well being.

“I lost count. It doesn’t matter, I’m a cop. I should be able to outrun any perp. I don’t care if it’s Usain Bolt I’m chasing after.”  

“Aw, Pineapples, it’s okay. We’re not as spry as we used to be,” Amy tries to reassure him, ducking her head to catch his gaze and smiling encouragingly when he meets her eyes. “We’ve all let perps go, it happens.”

“Yeah, well, not to me. I  _ always  _ get the guy. I’ve always prided myself on that, but this time he just… slipped through my fingers.” Jake looks down at his hands before clenching them into fists. “God  _ damn  _ it, I’m so pissed, I’m gonna go take a shower,” he mumbles before flying up from his seat and storming off towards the showers.

“Wow, I’ve never seen him this angry,” Amy murmurs worriedly as she watches him stalk away.

“He’ll be fine, he just needs to blow off steam,” Rosa replies easily, her expression unreadable. “Dude’s always tense.”

“He should get a massage! I know this great place down on Quincey, Vivian and I used to go there all the time, it’s  _ very  _ sensual-”

“Oh god, Charles,  _ stop _ ,” Amy crinkles her face in disgust. 

..

When Jake gets down to the showers, he finds them empty, which makes his chest unknit slightly since he’d much rather be alone to unfog his mind. He unzips and then shrugs off his hoodie, tossing it on the bench in front of his locker. He peels off his shirt next, which was drenched in the chase and now sticks to his skin thanks to the cooling sweat. Finally, he shucks off his pants and boxers, shivering a little as the open air accentuates the clammy quality of his skin. He grabs a towel from his locker and quickly heads towards the showers.

He exhales with relief when the steaming water hits his skin, letting his muscles loosen under the steady spray hitting his back. He sways gently to the music trickling through his phone speakers as he lets the stream soothe his worries away. The minutes pass as he soaps himself up, his hands smoothing over his body and washing away all of the sweat and dirt from his chase. He’s probably been down here for too long, but the hot water is a comfort, and the steam and soft music relaxes him. He breathes deeply through his nostrils, closing his eyes and getting lost in the pure sensations. This is the most calm he’s felt in weeks, and he relishes in it.

After a while, he’s feeling a little better, so he shuts off the water and grabs his towel, scrubbing it over his hair quickly before patting down his torso and wrapping it around his waist. He shuffles over to his speakers to turn them down, until the echo around the empty locker room has faded. He’s making his way to his locker when he hears the telltale squeak of ancient hinges moving, alerting him to the fact that the door to the men’s locker room is opening slowly. “Charles?” he calls, and the squeak suddenly cuts off. “You better not be in here wanting to shampoo my hair or something.” A slight, higher-pitched laugh lets him know it’s not Charles. It’s a woman’s voice, in fact, and a very familiar one at that.

“Ames?” he asks tentatively. She peeks around the corner at the far end of his row of lockers, spots him, and then walks around it fully with a little more confidence. Her eyes openly rake over him, flickering down to his bare chest and lingering there for a moment before moving back to his face and firmly staying there.

“Hi,” she says weakly, smiling and giving a small wave. Jake smiles back, nervous and self-conscious when the realization hits him of how little clothing he’s wearing, but then he remembers that Amy’s seen him nearly naked plenty of times and it’s never been weird before. He rolls his shoulders, plucking up all of his usual bravado, determined to act like the fact that a rectangular swatch of terrycloth being the only thing covering his nude body from her is a normal part of his work day. He turns back toward his locker, and her footsteps resume, bringing her a little bit closer. 

“So, what’re you doing down here? Came to sneak a peek at the goods?” He turns his head and gives her a big, cocky grin, which makes her sheepish expression immediately transform into a far more familiar irked one. 

“Yeah, in your  _ dreams _ , Peralta,” she says with a playful jeer. “No, the reason I came down here was because Rosa and Charles got me thinking. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks.” He stops perusing through his locker to look at her.

“Psh,  _ you’ve _ had a rough couple of weeks,” he mocks her playfully, and she resists rolling her eyes.

“I’m serious Jake. Between that irritating defense lawyer, the Vulture, and now this perp getting away, you’ve been dealing with a lot lately. You should take a break.” He eyes her, trying to figure out if she’s being serious, and then decides she is and sighs.

“I did take a break. I took a shower. It was nice. Nothing soothes the soul like listening to Lorde while showering.” He grins at her.

“You listen to Lorde?” she asks, and then shakes her head. “Wait, no, that’s not the point. The point is, taking a shower at work doesn’t count as a break. That’s just good hygiene. You need more of a break than just a shower. You have earned PTO, right?”

“Yeah?” he asks with an upward inflection, as if to say,  _ and your point is? _

“So, maybe you should take a day off tomorrow and just relax. You’ve been working nonstop for the past few weeks. I’m sure Holt would understand.” His face pinches in disdain as he considers her words.

“I don’t need a day off. I’m fine.” He says with finality, turning back to his locker and pulling out his extra clothes, and for some reason, it bothers her. A lot.

“Jake, you’re not.” He turns back to her, suddenly unreasonably impatient.

“Amy, I am.” He throws his dirty clothes in his locker a little more forcefully than necessary. “Listen, I need you to get out so I can get dressed. I’m fine. Promise.” Amy sighs at her partner’s stubbornness, and she turns to leave, already working on her next argument for when he gets back upstairs. Before she can even get to the door, a low grunt of pain originating from somewhere in Jake’s chest echoes through the locker room. She darts back to his row to find him in nothing but his boxers, a hand held to his lower back. 

“Jake?”

He turns around quickly, hand dropping back to his side. “What’re you still doing here?” he snaps, and suddenly Amy has never been more done with his whole tough guy act. 

“Okay, you’re  _ not  _ fine. You very obviously hurt your back today, and I know you haven’t been getting enough sleep lately, and you haven’t been taking care of yourself - although, to be fair, you hardly do that normally - but it’s worse now than usual, and your work is suffering for it. You  _ need  _ to care about your health and well-being, otherwise you won’t be chasing perps much longer.” He looks taken aback by her outburst, almost angry, but then his face softens and he opens his mouth to explain.

“Amy -” he steps toward her and she stops him with her hand on his bicep. Her touch alone shuts him up immediately. 

“No, Jake. You can fool everyone else, but I’m your  _ partner _ . I know when you’re tired and when you’re upset and when you’re frustrated, and I  _ know  _ when you need a break. You love your job, and that’s great, but this job can get really physically demanding, and it’s okay to admit that you need a break every now and then. We  _ aren’t _ twenty five anymore, we can’t just stay up all night and work the whole next day or sprint full-speed after a perp for fifty blocks and immediately bounce back after one crappy shower. Please, take the day off.” She seems to consider something for a moment, and then says, “Tomorrow’s my day off. I was planning on doing some very neglected chores and then going out with friends, but I wouldn’t mind cancelling with them if you want to come over. We can just hang at my apartment and watch movies and eat greasy fast food, your favorite. What do you say?” She’s still holding onto his bicep, a little tighter now, and his heart skips a beat as the full scope of how much she cares about him hits him all at once. Enough to talk to him about it. Enough to notice how tired he’s been. Enough to cancel plans with her friends to hang out with him, because she’s  _ worried _ about him. 

“I don’t want you to have to cancel on your friends,” Jake says, although his resolve is weakening by the second under her empathetic stare. 

“It’s really more than okay. It’s just Kylie if we’re being honest, and I see her on almost all of my days off because I’m usually at the library,” Amy admits, chagrined. 

Her expression is still nervous, trying to gauge his reaction, when he yanks her into him and hugs her tight. She seems a little caught off guard by the gesture, and also by the fact that he’s still not wearing anything besides boxers, but she hugs him back all the same, her arms wrapping around his upper back as his fasten around her middle. His skin is scorching where it touches hers, and it makes something twist deep in her belly. His taut stomach rests against hers as he squeezes her just a little tighter, and she digs her nails into his back a little when she feels one of his thumbs graze her sensitive side. His soap, something that smells a little bit like pine needles, is intoxicating and makes her just a little dizzy. “Okay Ames, I’ll take a day off. Thank you,” he mumbles against her neck, and she smiles into his shoulder, pulling him just a bit closer.

..

That night, Jake’s on his couch, watching HGTV in his most comfortable red flannel pajama pants and the softest charcoal t-shirt he owns while he stuffs handfuls of sticky caramel corn into his mouth. “ _ Man _ this couple has issues, why are they even buying a house together in the first place?” He asks to nobody through a mouthful of popcorn as he gesticulates towards his TV screen. His phone softly buzzes in his pocket and he hops up off the couch, ambling over to his kitchen to wash the stickiness off of his hands before checking his phone to see that it’s Amy.   
  


**A: Hey! Did you talk to Holt about getting the day off tomorrow?**

 

He smirks at the screen before texting back a response.

 

**J: Yea, he said it was allz good. He loves me so nbd**

 

**A: Hahaha I don’t know about that, but that’s great! So tomorrow I was thinking**

**you could come over around six? I have some stuff to do in the morning but I should be done around then. Does that work for you?**

 

**J: Hmm, might have 2 squeeze u in between working out and being super**

**handsome but i think i can manage that. 6pm it is**

 

**A: Glad you could fit me into your tight schedule.**

 

He can nearly hear her deadpan voice and see her eye roll in the back of his mind as he reads the message, and he can’t help the quiet giggle that slips out. 

 

**A: Do you want to get take out? I can have it there by six.**

 

**J: Hellz yes, what do u want? I’ll pick it up on my way over.**

 

**A: It’s okay! I don’t mind having it delivered.**

 

Jake rolls his eyes in fondness at Amy’s stubbornness and smiles wide as he types his response.

 

**J: Ames, i can afford some takeout. It’s ok, really. I wanna. What do u want?**

**Perogys?**

 

**A: Pierogies, Jake. And actually, I could totally go for Chinese. The usual?**

 

**J: U read my mind! U got it**

**  
****A: Perfect. See you then! Thank you, Jake.**

 

He shakes his head in disbelief as he smiles at the message. Here she is, looking out for his health, inviting him over, wanting to watch movies with him, trying to make him feel better, and  _ she’s _ thanking  _ him. _

 

**J: The pleasures all mine, ames. C u then**

..

Jake arrives promptly at her door around 6:05pm the next day with a big paper bag full of take out in one hand resting on his hip and a little paper bag full of movies in the other. He knocks on her door with his foot, and she opens it a moment later, a big smile on her face. She’s in leggings and an old NYPD t-shirt, her hair in a high bun, pieces falling around her face and framing it. He’s never seen anyone look so stunning so effortlessly and he has to swallow thickly before returning her smile with one of his own. “Hey,” he says, and it sounds a little too breathless for his tastes, so he loudly clears his throat and adds, “I brought all the goods: movies, food, and myself, of course.” 

She snorts and opens the door wider to let him in, and he meanders right in like it’s his own home. He sets the food and the movies on her living room coffee table and starts in on taking all the food out and dividing it up. While he does this, she peruses the movies he brought.

“Training day, Fargo, Lethal Weapon,” her voice rings with approval before spying the next movie. “Die Hard,” she says with a deploring tone, which makes him chuckle, “Beverly Hills Cop, Pulp Fiction… Dirty Dancing?” She holds it up, and he looks at her with a sheepish grin. “Peralta, do you have a soft spot for young Patrick Swayze?” She asks as she goes to the kitchen to retrieve silverware for them to eat from the boxes with.

“Hey, he’s a very beautiful man,” Jake calls after her defensively, “plus, he’s a really good dancer and super nice and cool. He’s like the total package.” Amy’s just staring at him, silverware in her hands, paused in front of the couch. His face starts to get a little red, and Amy watches with a smirk as he squirms. “What? You totally have a crush on him too, don’t act like it’s just me, shut up.” Amy laughs, loud and full, and Jake begrudgingly smiles a little, appreciating the sound as she takes a seat close to him on the couch. She passes him a fork and spoon, her laughs trailing off into giggles. 

“You’re funny,” she says plainly, and his heart palpitates just a little. “I just love that you brought all these big, badass cop movies... and Dirty Dancing. You somehow always manage to surprise me, Pineapples.” She turns to look at him, her eyes bright, and he’s not used to feeling so many emotions within the span of two minutes. His heart feels like it’s about to jump out of his throat and scream all the things he’s thought about saying to her for over a year now, and he very nearly crumbles under her warm gaze until she turns back to the food containers and picks one up and digs in. He releases a quiet breath before he follows her lead and picks up his own, nearly shoveling it in in his haste to keep himself from blabbing and ruining everything. She groans around the food, and the sound does something funny to Jake’s stomach which is already inconveniently in about three hundred knots, feeling the way his mom’s necklaces used to look when they got all tangled. He’d help her unknot them, settled on the edge of her bed, content and completely focused on pulling those delicate little chains with the tips of his fingers; he imagines doing that now with his stomach, gently twisting and pulling until the tension is gone and he can fully relax. It’s Amy’s voice that breaks through his thoughts. “Thank you again for the food.” she murmurs softly. He swallows the bite he’s been chewing for way too long and shakes his head a little bit to clear the cobwebs from his mind. 

“Ain’t no thang,” he says and takes another bite of his egg foo young, smiling at her with food seeping through his teeth. Amy laughs and swats at his arm.

“Ew, Jake! Gross!” But he knows she’s not really disgusted as much as she’s amused, and he’d do just about any gross thing possible if it made her face crinkle in joy like that. Their laughs taper off and they focus on their food, Amy turning the TV on and Jake teasing her as Jeopardy appears on the screen. 

They eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching with detached interest, every now and then Amy muttering the right answer under her breath. Jake feels more at ease than he has in a really long time, even more so than the shower he took yesterday. His back is still bothering him, his body sore from the chase, but Amy’s couch is comfortable enough and her warmth next to him is soothing. They trade containers every now and then, sharing their food without much thought behind it. Amy reaches, Jake gives. Jake sticks his fork into the box in her hands and she passes it to him for better access. At one point he catches her eyeing his egg roll, so he cracks it in half and they share. They continue on like this until they’re both full, Jake helping Amy to box up the leftovers and shove them in her fridge.

“So which movie do you wanna watch?” Jake asks as he flops back down onto her couch, his long legs nearly taking up the whole sofa. He looks like the perfect picture of ease, shins crossed and arms up behind his head. She smiles at the sight of it before heading over to the lightswitch and turning the lights off in her apartment for a better movie atmosphere. She pads over to the couch and lifts his calves up, dropping into the cushion and then dropping his legs to let them rest in her lap as she shifts and gets comfortable. “Your apartment, your pick. Personally, my favorite is Die Hard, but considering I’ve already watched it this week, I’m up for a little variety,” he says nonchalantly, trying not to think about her arms resting on his legs or her hand on his calf while she uses the other to look through the movies on the table.

“Hmm… I love Fargo and how badass Marge Gunderson is, but you know I have a weak spot for Training Day,” she says with a grin, and his own pleased grin confirms her suspicion: he definitely brought both movies because he remembers they’re her favorites.

“Marge always reminds me of you,” Jake says absently, face going red under Amy’s perplexed smirk.

“Really? Why’s that?” 

“Well, she’s just like, really good at her job and she doesn’t let anything stop her from doing it, even suspects being difficult or her being like  _ hella  _ pregnant. She’s awesome, basically.” He’s gazing at her the entire time he’s talking, his eyes alight with fondness, and he watches her face shift from confusion to something softer. His heart throbs at the sight.

“Actually, in the beginning, our partnership reminded me a lot of Lethal Weapon,” Amy admits, and now it’s Jake’s turn to scrunch his face.

“What?! How so?”

“C’mon, Jake, we were  _ literally  _ Murtaugh and Riggs. I mean, I’m all about following procedure and doing things by the book and you’re the crazy John McClane cop who loves the danger of it all.”

“I don’t love the danger of it all,” Jake lies, and it’s so obvious even he can hear it in his voice. “I love the  _ badassery  _ of it all.  _ Huge _ difference.”

“You have Riggs written all  _ over  _ you,” she laughs and he scoffs in mock offense.

“He’s a super dope rogue cop! He literally just walks in and saves the day. Remember the sniper scene?”

“Yeah, when he walks in and puts himself in danger to take the guy down?”

“It’s awesome.”

“It’s  _ stupid _ .”

“He saves all of those kids!”

“And only narrowly misses getting sniped down. Murtaugh is the smart one.”

“You saying I’m not smart?”

“Oh, please, don’t turn this into that. We both know I’m the Murtaugh in this relationship, Jake.”

“Pshh,  _ yeah _ , cause you’re super old and  _ lame, _ ” Jake retorts, and Amy just laughs.

“You’re just angry because my handwriting is actually legible,” she points out playfully and shoves his legs off her lap before getting up to stretch. The move made his lower back twinge painfully, but he manages to choke down the ache, watching the way her body moves slow and cat-like in appreciative silence and his next argument lost on his lips. It’s not until she’s turned to face him with one hand on her hip that he snaps out of his stupor. “Anyways, which movie do  _ you _ wanna watch?” 

“Well now I’m just too offended to watch Lethal Weapon,” Jake grumbles as he crosses his arms over his chest and sits up. Amy rolls her eyes affectionately.

“Okay, so that’s out, and so is Die Hard.” A disappointed expression flashes over Jake’s features only briefly before he accepts that they won’t be watching Die Hard. “Y’know what? Honestly… I’m thinking I really wanna see Patrick Swayze’s dance moves,” she grins over at him, and he laughs.

“Really?” he smiles, and it reaches his eyes and makes them sparkle with amusement.

“Yeah,” she says decidedly, and she picks up the movie case and pops the disc out. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen it. Plus, I could use a nice rom com, y’know?” She puts the movie in her DVD player while Jake stands and mirrors her earlier stretch, internally screaming when the move ignites every sore inch of his back. It’s starting to feel a little bit like a pulled a muscle or something along those lines, but he quickly shoos that thought away as he sits back down and gets comfortable. Amy comes back to the couch once the DVD is starting up and sits close to his side, close enough that their arms brush when they inhale, and Jake feels content and nervous all at once. The opening credits start but Jake’s not paying them nearly as much attention as he is the way Amy’s body feels when she’s this close to him, this soft and warm. Her perfume gently drifts over him as she shifts, curling both legs up to the couch on her other side, subtly (it really  _ would _ be subtle if he wasn’t so acutely aware of and focused on her) pitching her a little bit closer to him. It smells spiced, like cinnamon or coriander or some other sweet sharp scent, and it makes him light-headed and hardly able to focus on Baby’s beginning dialogue. 

As the movie plays on, Amy and Jake take turns shifting closer; before long his arm hangs over the back of the couch and Amy is curled snugly into his side. He can smell her shampoo now through her perfume, can feel her body heat clinging to his t-shirt when he breathes, and he swallows hard, not daring to move from this position despite the nagging ache in his lower back. The atmosphere feels different from the other times they’ve hung out at her apartment. It’s more… meaningful, somehow. Each move they make is deliberate now, a clear and definite test of each other’s boundaries, like some kind of slow-burn chess game. Their friendship stands on fragile ground that shifts dangerously beneath his feet, and his heart is pounding, his vision a little too blurred to tell if he’ll sink or swim when it gives way. And it will give way sooner or later, he knows that as surely as he knows every single one of John McClane’s lines in Die Hard. He’s felt this coming for a while, has felt the tension building, but is a bit more than reluctant to take that final leap. It’s going to happen at some point, and his feelings are going to need to be addressed, but his doubts keep him anchored to the past. After all, the past is where he knows his friendship dynamics with Amy as thoroughly as the back of his hand, where he knows what jokes he can pull and which ones he can’t, where their physical boundaries are clear and defined. The lines they’re crossing now, the territory they’re creeping into is uncharted and foggy. One misstep and they’ll both go careening over the edge. One mistake and he might lose her. The thought of her not being part of his life in any form is too painful for him to handle, enough to make him dig his heels in and claw at that fragile threshold to hold up. He doesn’t want to mess this up. Can’t mess this up.

He glances down at Amy to see her enthralled in the movie, one arm curled against his side and the other resting loosely on his knee, her thumb moving in small lazy circles on his kneecap. He positively basks in her touch, because it doesn’t feel platonic. As if the cuddling wasn’t non-platonic enough - it’s not like he cuddles with any of his other friends. But his other friends are Charles, who Jake doesn’t usually cuddle (except once on a stake out when their car died and it was in the middle of winter but they agreed to never talk about that again) despite his  _ repeated _ requests, or Gina, who says she hasn’t cuddled with another human since 2007, and Rosa, who would snap his arm if he even  _ thought about  _ cuddling with her. Regardless, he’s pretty sure this isn’t platonic cuddling. And yet he can’t quite bring himself to assume Amy likes him back in the same way he likes her, even though it’s all he wants to believe as her hand inches higher to trace small shapes with the end of her index finger on his lower thigh. There’s way too much at stake for him to screw this up because of some dumb assumptions about her feelings, he tells himself as she deliberately draws a heart along the inside of his thigh. He desperately wants to know, but doesn’t dare to ask, and not just because his heart is definitely in his throat. 

Experimentally, he takes the arm that was resting on the back of the couch and cautiously drapes it gently over her back. She just adjusts to the new position by inching a little closer to him and continues her ministrations on his lower thigh. He starts drawing lazy lines down her back and up her side, and she releases a contented sigh. He never wants to move, doesn’t ever want Amy to leave his side, doesn’t want to break the tension between them by shifting and making her move away, but by the time Johnny is lifting Baby in the final dance number his back is positively wailing in agony. So he shifts, and the muscles spasm, drawing a low grunt of pain from deep in his chest. As he predicted, Amy moves away, but when he turns his head to briefly meet her gaze he realizes it’s only because she wants to examine him.

“You okay?” she inquires, and he nods automatically, eyes glued to the television. 

“Yeah,” he tries to reassure her by patting her back with his hand still on her, but her face is stern and completely unconvinced.

“Jake,” she chides, her hand coming back to rest on his knee. He makes the mistake of meeting her eyes with his own, and then it’s all over.

He sighs, taking one last moment to revel in their closeness before admitting the truth. “Okay, I hurt my back pretty bad yesterday when I was chasing after Oswald, and it still hurts, and I’m old and lame and sorry.” He shifts, uncomfortable with being so open and honest before he feels Amy squeeze his knee.

“Jake,” she murmurs more softly than before, and he doesn’t tear his gaze from the credits rolling across the TV screen, “Look at me.” He does, and her hand moves from his knee to gently touch the side of his face, her fingers threading through his hair. “You’re getting older. Injuries are going to happen, but that’s life. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re still Jake. Still immature, stubborn, selfish,” Jake interjects with an indignant sound but she ignores him, thumb caressing his cheekbone as she continues, “funny, goofy, sweet, caring, passionate Jake. You might be older, but that just means you’re smarter. Better at your job. Better with your relationships.” The muscles in his jaw twitch at that. She holds his stare, her thumb still moving slow and steady against his cheek. “I’m sorry you feel old, Jake, but I promise, it’s not all bad.” She scratches behind his ear affectionately, and he leans into her touch as he covers her hand with his own.

“Thanks Ames. Really.” He leans in as he tugs at her hand, pulling her in, hugging her tight, squeezing her as close to him as he can when he feels a surge of affection and adoration for her course through him. Her arms flex around his neck as she returns his embrace, and he’s struck with the feeling of hanging on a precipice, their tether fraying and coming closer to the breaking point with each passing second. The unknown, so scary and foggy before, doesn’t feel so scary with her in his arms and him in hers; suddenly, the idea of going back seems born of a silly and childish fear.

She pulls back after a long moment, and he follows suit with only slight hesitation to let her go. She doesn’t go far, luckily, pulling back just far enough to study his face without going cross-eyed. He could really stay there forever, just living in his moment, but it doesn’t take long for the angle to cause his lower back to twitch and spasm in protest again. The moment shatters completely, her arms retracting from his body and her body falling away from his hands, leaving him feeling cold and empty in addition to being in tremendous pain. He’s just about to slump over sideways and completely give up before Amy pipes up and says, “If you want, I can give you a massage. It might make your back feel better.” 

He considers this for a moment, his mind conjuring up images of Amy’s hands moving slowly along his back in flickering candlelight, rubbing deep into his shoulders, down his back, going lower and lower... and he blinks to make them disappear before the heat rushing down his neck can reach any further south.

“Uhm… thanks, but that’s okay. I probably just need to stretch it out more.” He stands and tries to stretch with his arms above his head but the move makes agonizing pain shoot up in his back and he yelps. He turns to see her lips pressed together with an  _ I told you so _ look, and despite the smarter part of his brain telling him not to, the other part of his brain is screaming at him for even the slightest promise of relief. The fact that the relief also involves her hands deeply kneading into his muscles and skimming all over his skin is an unbelievable added bonus. It’s no surprise then that the screaming wins out in the end.

Sighing in resignation, he assents. “Okay. Maybe I could use a massage. But only if you know what you’re doing.”

“I took a class-”

“Of course you did.”

She chortles a bit, and he grins as he sits down, turning so that his back is facing her. “Ready when you are,” he says. A moment passes.

“Uh, Jake? Aren’t you gonna take your shirt off?” She asks almost timidly, and Jake just about chokes on his own spit at the question.

“What?” he rasps out, staring back at her from over his shoulder.

“It’s just, it’s kind of hard to massage you through, like, three layers of clothes,” she gestures to his hoodie, flannel, and undershirt. “The guy who taught that class said that the fewer layers there are between my hands and your back, the more effective this will be.” She doesn’t say it, but the  _ it would feel better, too _ is implied and very clearly understood. He turns back around, swallows, considers it for a moment, and then grabs the zipper of his hoodie and pulls it down slowly and deliberately. The sound seems jarringly loud in the otherwise quiet apartment, and he feels his breath quicken, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Amy’s tracking his every move. He sheds the sweatshirt as quickly as his back will allow and lays it over the arm of the couch in front of him. Next comes his flannel, his tension and nervousness and  _ excitement  _ mounting with each button undone _.  _ Amy doesn’t speak a single word throughout this process, and he can only imagine the towering heights to which her impatience is stretching, but if she  _ is _ actually impatient, she doesn’t mention it. Finally, he slips his undershirt over his head, and even without clothes on his upper half, he’s burning hot.

“Lay down, I’ll be right back,” she tells him quietly, and he doesn’t even have it in him to ask, just lays down on his belly obediently and waits. Amy comes back after a minute, and before long, the TV is shut off, the only light illuminating the room being a soft, orange glow from the lamp on the side table near her couch that she switches on as she passes it. She turns on some gentle acoustic-sounding music that filters through her radio in the kitchen, and even though every muscle in Jake’s body is tense with anticipation, the atmosphere really is truly relaxing. Finally, he feels Amy’s weight dip into the couch cushions somewhere down below his hip as she gets in position. A moment later she settles on top of him, straddling his upper thighs just below his butt. Her weight above him makes his head spin, but he tries to concentrate on regulating his breathing so that he doesn’t make this weirder than it already is. He hears a click, something like a plastic cap on a bottle popping open.

“What’s that?” His voice sounds so loud even though he asks in barely above a whisper, and he swallows to try and clear his throat as she slightly shifts her weight.

“Massage oil. I bought it when I was going out with Teddy, but we never ended up using it. I figured we should do this right,” and he can hear her smile, which makes him smile too despite the bummer reminder that Amy spent so long with someone else. He closes his eyes and tries to ease his muscles, ready and waiting for her touch as she recaps the oil and leans to one side to replace the bottle on the coffee table. 

“Do your worst, Ames,” he mumbles over the strange, slick sounds of her oiled hands rubbing together above his back. A drop of the oil drips from her hands and lands against his spine and he arches up towards her so absent-mindedly that he doesn’t even really notice it.

As soon as her oil-slick hands press slowly into his shoulders, he’s a complete and total goner. Her touch feels like a million little electric shocks, the heat in her hands colliding with the heat of his skin and making him nearly fall to pieces beneath her. It’s so  _ good,  _ better than he could’ve ever anticipated, and he bites the side of his tongue to stifle the embarrassing groan building in his chest as she digs her thumbs into the muscles of his upper back.

The next twenty minutes prove to be a test in restraint for Jake; it only takes about three minutes of Amy’s hands on him to turn him on so completely and thoroughly that he sees stars with each pass of her hands over his skin. His only saving grace is that she can’t see just how hard she’s making him. He’s contemplating smothering himself in the couch cushions as she slowly continues down his back, so focused on not outright rutting his hips into the couch that he can’t hold back the little breathy sighs and moans. “God, I needed this so bad,” he tries to say normally, but it comes out as more of a groan and far more breathless than he intended. He clears his throat and tries to speak again. “This feels so good, Amy. Thank you.” He’s proud of himself for actually being able to articulate words when all he wants to do is whine and pant and rut into the couch until he comes in his pants like he’s sixteen again. 

“You’re welcome,” Amy mumbles, and she sounds distracted. He wonders if this is affecting her half as much as it’s affecting him, or if she’s just thinking of missed opportunities with Teddy or something. He’s hoping for the former when she buries the heel of her palm into the sore spot on his back and he actually hoarsely cries out in pleasure, unable to stop himself. Amy’s hands immediately leave his back and he panics. “Oh my god, did I hurt you?” Amy’s voice is tight with concern.

Jake’s face feels like it’s on fire with embarrassment, but he turns back to look at her the best he can. “No! No, I’m sorry, that just… that’s where I’m really sore and that… felt really damn good,” he admits, feeling like a complete idiot. He can feel her sag in relief before her hands go right back to the spot and start firmly kneading it. He lets out a shameless hum of pleasure from deep in his chest, more of a sigh than anything, and closes his eyes, allowing the sensations to take him. She’s using every part of her hands: nudging her digits into the knots of his back to loosen them, digging the heels of he palms into the sore spots that require more of her attention, and circling her thumbs over areas she’s already worked on to soothe the muscle there. Meanwhile, Jake’s biting his lip to keep in the sounds of desire he’s desperate to release. His self-control is running absolutely ragged, leaving him only dimly aware of the fact that he’s started rutting his hips lazily into the couch cushions, just trying to relieve some of the pressure on his erection. Amy’s hands on him is surely what pure bliss feels like, each stroke of her fingers and press of her palm leaving him more happy and content than he’s been for the past year and a half. Her hands are gentle but firm on his skin, her touch utterly tender, and he feels his heart kick into overdrive when she runs her fingers up his spine in loose loops. She works at his neck for a while, muttering faintly about how he holds a lot of his tension there when, without warning, he feels something soft brush feather-light between his shoulder blades. His answering inhale comes in a gasp, and he curves his back up towards her instinctively. Lips, the touch between his shoulders felt like lips - his skin absolutely scorching as he holds his breath, waiting. Another moment passes, Amy’s hands still working diligently over his shoulders, when he feels another brush of her lips against his right shoulder. The muscle there twitches violently and involuntarily beneath her mouth.

His mind is reeling, trying to figure out what they mean when there’s another one on his left shoulder. Then another at the very top of his spine, and another just a notch lower. She keeps a steady pace until she reaches the small of his back, leaving him positively panting and more turned on than he’s ever been in his life. He’s not even trying to stop his hips from rutting beneath her anymore, so ridiculously aroused that he’s actually a little shaky and lightheaded. There isn’t enough blood in his brain for him to successfully piece together what this means, but for once he doesn’t even wanna know, just wants her to keep touching him and lavishing him with kisses. She makes her way back up his spine with her lips, her hands running up his sides and making him visibly shiver as she tops it off with an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. 

“Amy?” he croaks, panting. She leans over and presses her lips to his cheek gently, and then to the corner of his mouth, lingering there for a few seconds before slowly drawing back. 

It takes a moment to reorient himself, but the second he’s able to see straight he pushes his shoulders up off of the couch. Her expression is one of surprise but she leans back on her haunches, allowing him enough room to quickly scramble around on the couch until he’s laying on his back. His hands find purchase on her hips, his thumbs drawing quickly tracing circles over her hip bones beneath her shirt before he pulls her down to fully straddle him again with far more force than he would have otherwise. Her hands land on his chest to balance herself, and suddenly, he doesn’t feel so nervous anymore. Not when Amy’s looking down at him like that, a mix of surprise and expectancy in her pupils that are blown full of affection and blurred around the edges with lust. Jake is struck dumb by how much he’s wanted something like this to happen, how much he’s wanted one of them to take the flying leap over that edge they’ve been on for so long. 

He realizes as she slowly, slowly rocks her hips against his that Amy didn’t really take the leap so much as she grabbed his hand and coaxed him along to the edge with her before they leapt off together. Just like they do everything together. Every feeling, every look, every little inch forward toward this moment flickers through his head so fast and so hard it feels like a headrush as he loses himself in her dark eyes. It all comes careening into him at once, and one moment he’s absorbing the way her expression is transforming into something nervous and the next he’s sitting upright and cupping her face as she slides her arms around his neck. The move brings them closer than they’ve ever been, their foreheads touching as Jake’s gaze oscillates between Amy’s eyes and her lips. He licks his lips in anticipation and her eyes flash down to follow the movement before she leans in deliberately and just barely brushes her lips against his. Their first kiss is so soft and gentle, everything he needed in order to know just how she feels, and not at all as heated as he always daydreamed it would be. It’s over far too soon, leaving him practically whimpering for more, so with all the courage he has thrumming through his veins, he brushes his nose against hers and angles his head to kiss her, pouring all the adoration that has been bubbling in his belly for nearly two years into it. His thumbs smooth across her cheeks while her hands card through his hair over and over, their touch constant, their lips moving in tandem easily and without urgency. He sighs into it, into  _ her _ , and slowly runs his tongue over the seam of her lips, wordlessly seeking permission to deepen the intimacy already sending his gut backflipping and bottoming out simultaneously. She pulls slightly, her breath coming a little harder than before, her smile shy. He almost groans at how unbelievably attractive she is; he instead settles for nuzzling her nose with his, eyes slipping shut.

“You okay?” he murmurs, running one hand through her hair while the other caresses her cheek, his breath ghosting against her lips; when his eyes flutter open, he finds hers locked in on his lips. It’s by far the most intimate moment he’s ever had, even more so than the kiss, and they’re not even going hot and heavy. He grins and laughs a little breathlessly and her eyes snap up to meet his.

“Yeah,” she says, pausing before admitting, “Just... nervous. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

He can feel his eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline, but he doesn’t care - it’s a little bit like being told he’s just won a billion dollars, except so much better. “You have?” he can’t help the question from slipping out in between winded breaths.

She giggles, her hands sliding down from his hair to his neck to rest on his bare chest. Distantly, he wonders if she can feel his heartbeat hammering beneath her palm. “Wow, you really are the second-best detective in the precinct, aren’t you? Was the cuddling during the movie and asking to give you a massage not enough of a hint?” She teases, and he laughs at the twinkle of humor in her eyes. 

“I just didn’t want to assume,” he says, absurdly bashful, “especially cause, y’know, it’s  _ you _ and I really didn’t wanna screw this up. And I... I still don’t want to screw this up.” His thumb brushes across her cheek, and she turns her head slightly to place a kiss against the pad of it when he drifts closer to her mouth. His heart aches, the move enlightening just how completely and totally gone he already is for this woman. 

“You won’t,” she whispers and leans back in, her lips capturing his once more. It starts off a lot like the last kiss, all slow and timid, but then Jake’s hands slide up to see if her perfect hair can tangle, and hers grip his shoulders like he’s a ledge she’s hanging onto for dear life, and the world starts getting a bit blurry after that. Jake’s tongue probes her lips again, a little more aggressively than last time, but this time she doesn’t pull away. This time her lips part, and he invades at once. She sighs into him as their tongues tentatively meet, and good god she tastes so good,  _ so _ good, like Chinese takeout and spearmint toothpaste and pure indulgence. The thought occurs to him that he really could spend the rest of his life here, drinking her in, pulling her as close to him as humanly possible. 

Her bottom lip is sinfully plump, begging for a tease, so he captures it between his teeth and tugs it gently just far enough to elicit a soft moan before he releases it and immediately dives back in. His kisses have become closer in nature to an attack, but he realizes with a delighted moan of his own that hers mirror his in intensity. They’re kissing hard enough to bruise, and when he finally yanks back to catch his breath, he sees Amy panting too, her pupils wide as saucers and a slightly crooked smirk on her dark, swollen lips. He matches her smile and pulls her back in with a searing kiss, their mutual desperation giving way to a wet, hot, nearly pornographic kiss in no time at all. Careful not to disrupt the passionate make-out quickly unfolding, Jake grips her hips and tugs her closer to him, essentially pulling her into such a position that her pelvis rubs directly against his fully erect cock. She understands at once, making it a point to grind her hips forward, and the sensation of her heat so close to where he desperately needs her makes him moan into her mouth.

She pulls back a moment later, her forehead leaned against his, now fully focused on rolling her hips slowly and seductively over him. “Amy, god, that’s so fucking hot,” he breathes, his grip on her hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises in the morning, encouraging her movements by urging her forward each time she rolls backwards. She keeps the tempo steady, the sweet friction just enough to get Jake’s eyes rolling up into his skull. He drops his head forward into the curve of her neck, groaning as his hands drift upward to weakly explore her sides. He presses wet, open-mouthed kisses up and down her neck, and then pauses at the base of her throat, taking a moment to bite and suck at one spot in particular. Amy moans loud, her hips stuttering in their rhythm for the first time since the start of her tease, and he smiles into her skin, taking care to press a kiss to the hickey he’s just left before licking a hot, slow stripe up her neck. 

“Jake, oh fuck,” she gasps as he suckles at the underside of her jaw, “You’re so good, you’re so sexy,  _ mmph _ ,” she babbles as he continues to shower her with kisses all along her neck. She rakes her nails down his back from the tops of his shoulders and he shivers and moans loud enough that Amy feels the vibrations underneath her hands.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “you’re the sexy one, here,” he dips his head back down and bites her shoulder, hard. She keens. 

He kisses his way up to her ear before biting the lobe and tugging, breathing heavily. Amy mewls and bucks her hips into his extra hard, her nails digging painfully into his shoulders. 

“Mmm,  _ Amy _ ,” he whispers once he’s released her earlobe, “you feel so good, so soft and perfect...been imagining this for months, can’t believe this is happening, you’re so beautiful, so beautiful,” and he can’t seem to stop rambling, his brain on overdrive and his body sensitive and responding tenfold to every swipe of her hands over his overheated skin and every brush of her lips to his. “I want to see you so bad, wanna see every perfect inch of you... Can you take your shirt off for me? Please?” Her hands immediately leave his chest to grip the bottom hem of her shirt and he laughs delightedly at her enthusiasm. However, the laugh dies in his throat the moment she pulls it off, mouth going dry as he rakes his eyes over her newly-exposed and completely flawless tan skin, interrupted only by the thin straps of her sports bra. When his eyes meet hers, he finds his own hunger reflected there. His hands find their way to her sides, over her bra, and he whispers, “Can I?”

She swallows a little thickly but nods, looking completely certain, and then his hands reach behind her to the clasp. He opens it so smoothly that a little flash of surprise crosses Amy’s face. “You’re good,” she laughs lightly, and he can’t even join in because she says it as her bra slips down her arms and reveals the most perfect image that will ever be seared into his brain for the rest of eternity. 

“Holy shit, Ames,” he breathes, chest heaving and hands rising hesitantly. Her smile has gone shy again, watching him take her in. He really could just cry at the sight of her - well, actually, he could cry at the fact that any of this is even happening at all, that she didn’t smack him upside the head and kick him out the moment he basically started dry humping her couch while she did him the favor of massaging his back. But he doesn’t cry, doesn’t even dare to draw a breath, doing everything in his power to make this moment of complete and utter perfection last as long as he possibly can.

The moment ends abruptly when she catches his face between her hands. “Jake?” she asks, voice dancing with amusement. “Are you gonna stare at my boobs for the rest of the night or are you gonna make a move?”

This time he does manage a laugh - strangled and hoarse as it may be - before he moves. And saying that he moves is putting it lightly, it’s more like he pitches himself forward, he dives, he  _ lunges _ , mouth opening wide to capture her right nipple between his lips. It’s pretty obvious that she wasn’t expecting it - like her gasp isn’t enough of a clue - because the minute he laps his tongue over the pebbled bud, she mewls loudly, arching her back to thrust her chest forward while grinding their hips together. He licks and sucks, muffling his groans at the sensation of their hips rocking together into her skin, nipping with the defined edges of his teeth every now and then and smirking as Amy’s body writhes underneath his tongue. 

He’s massaging her other breast with his right hand, his left splayed across her upper back both to keep her from tipping backwards and to subtly push her further into his mouth. She bends even further to give him better access, her head thrown back in ecstasy and her eyes closed, hands rooted in his hair to hold his head in place. She lets it go on like that for a while before he feels her pulling him toward her other nipple, and he snickers against her soft skin before quickly switching his hands around and lavishing that one with as much ardent focus and attention as he did the first one. 

“Where’s the massage oil?” He asks once both nipples are equally hardened and standing at attention. She’s dazed when he pulls back to look her in the eyes and it visibly takes her a minute to process the question, but the second she does she turns back in his arms and finds it on the the coffee table. His arm supporting her strains a little as she leans further back for a moment, but then she’s leaning back into him and placing the bottle in his open hand. 

“Why?” she asks, adjusting so that his other arm is free and more of her weight is shifted into their still-subtly-grinding pelvises, but he just keeps eye contact, popping the cap open and pouring some into his hand. Before she can ask again, he’s recapped the bottle and tossed it back onto the table, transforming her speech into a sharp gasp as he rubs his hands firmly over her breasts. She’s gone, crying out and anchoring herself with her hands to the sides of his neck. He explores her skin meticulously, massaging her breasts and her sides, sliding them down her belly, carefully noting which movements and spots make her breathing more and more labored. It’s as he’s rubbing his thumbs over her hips that she takes the massage oil and pours some into her own hands before following his lead and slipping her hands all over his chest, pinching his nipples with her slender fingers which elicits a delirious hum from Jake. It’s a little silly how much he loves that she’s not afraid to touch him, bold in pursuing what she wants. He’s trying to follow her example when he slowly slips his thumbs under the waistband of her leggings. He looks up to gauge her facial expression, finding her ready and expectant. 

The look emboldens him, so he follows his gut and yanks them down. The move sends her pushing up off the couch to extend her legs fully so he can slide her leggings and lace panties down and off her smooth legs in one swipe. After wondering at her newly exposed skin, he smiles slowly and presses a deliberate kiss to her hip. She’s breathing hard as he coaxes her to settle back down on top of him. She hasn’t smacked him yet or acted repulsed by his actions, and it gives him a little wave of bravery and he leans forward to kiss her with all the gentle tenderness he possesses. 

Her hands are a little more tense than before, unmoving on his shoulders, so he strokes down her back soothingly and caresses his lips slowly down her neck. It’s not until he licks playfully over the hickey he left at the base of her throat earlier that she finally seems to relax again, her hands moving up his neck to tangle in his hair once more. One quick squeeze to her thigh is all the warning he can manage before he pushes up from the couch slightly, moving into a kind of stoop, momentarily reveling in the way her legs tighten around his waist as he slowly rotates and lowers them both back to the couch so that her back is on the cushions and he’s resting some of his own weight against her. He contents himself with licking and nuzzling at her neck again before her grip on his hair grows impatient. The rest of her body is calling out to him anyways, so he trails open mouthed kisses down her chest, between her breasts, over her belly, and over to her left hip. He takes the time to suck another hickey into the skin of her hip for good measure, and Amy’s absolutely falling apart at this point, her breathy moans, desperate coos, and stuttering pants making him so hard he’s seeing spots in his vision. Her hands have left his hair to grip the pillow beneath her head, eyes pinched closed, brows drawn together in an exaggerated upside down V. He pauses, his breath warming her clit as he takes a moment to truly appreciate the portrait she paints. She must sense his hesitation, because only a moment passes before she opens her eyes and looks down.

“Jake,” she drawls, “are you okay?” His heart swells at her concern, and he kisses her thigh to reassure her. 

“Yeah, you’re just… gorgeous,” he kisses her thigh again, maintaining eye contact with her, “and smart,” another kiss, “and sexy as hell,” another kiss, “and incredible,” he gets closer and closer to her pussy with each kiss, and she’s trying to buck her hips up to get him where she needs him, but he’s pinning her pelvis down with his hands, brushing his thumbs into the dips of her hip bones. He chuckles as she lets out a groan of frustration.

“You’re really sweet and great and I appreciate all the things you just said, but I’m also so fucking wet and I really need your mouth on my clit right now,” she says in a rush, and he laughs more.

“Amy, Amy, Amy,” he tuts teasingly and shakes his head, the tip of his nose just brushing over her pubic bone. “Now where’s the fun in that?” he mouths over her lips and she jumps, on edge and desperate. She growls and his grin is nearly taking up his entire face. “You’re cute when you’re angry,” he says, and it drives her crazy but she’s smiling nonetheless, and he absolutely loves the power he can have over her. 

“I’ll give you want you want but... you have to convince me.” Amy is squirming in his grip, her impatience a palpable force between them, but he’s been dreaming of doing this with her for over a year, has gotten off on the mere thought of teasing her to the point of her pleading for some kind of relief, and even though he’s never been so goddamn hard, he is  _ going _ to hear her beg for him.

“Jake,  _ please _ ,” she’s exasperated and flushed, but it’s not quite what he wants to hear.

“Please what?” he asks, his nails running down her thighs and making them quiver. 

“Oh fuck, oh god, Jake, p-please,  _ ahh _ , eat me out, god,” she whines, and he licks up the seam of her lips, making her moan.

“Mmm, still not convinced,” he backs off a little and peers up her body to see her chest heaving, her hands with a death grip on the pillow behind her, her eyes squeezed shut. She’s so wound up, and he feels like the third time might be the charm.

“God, Jake, I need your tongue on my pussy, please, I fucking need it, I’m so fucking wet for you, I’m so fucking wet and I’ve wanted this for so long, please, god,  _ please _ ,” she’s nearly sobbing at this point, her voice almost lost beneath the roar of desire in his ears, and his grip on her hips tightens as she keeps going, “I’ve dreamt about this for months, your mouth is so fucking sexy, fuck Jake, please, please, pl-” he cuts off her babbling by burying his mouth in her cunt, both of them groaning loudly at the contact. 

Her hips arch off the couch violently as he gets to work and he doesn’t hold them down this time, letting her take control instead. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined this too, hadn’t daydreamed about the role Amy’s dominance might play in the bedroom, about her forcing his mouth where she wants it, and even though those daydreams were all excellent in their own right, they truly pale in comparison to the real thing. She clutches his hair like a lifeline (ironic, considering he’s the one drowning in her) and pulls his mouth in deeper as he lifts her ass with both hands to pull her even closer. He swirls his tongue up and down, rapidly circling her clit before dipping down into her and coming back up to swirl around her sweet spot faster and faster. She’s tightening her grip on his hair, knowing it’s probably way past the point of pain for him. If it is, he doesn’t seem to mind, eating her out with so much veneration that the thought of it alone is enough to make her completely weak. Her thighs are clamped down over his ears and it’s such an erotic picture: Jake Peralta is lodged firmly between her thighs, his big beautiful mouth sucking her, nursing her arousal, giving her complete control. His dusky eyes are locked on hers, watching her every minute expression and adjusting his movements accordingly. “A-ah,  _ Jake _ , right there, oh fuck,” she chokes, and he obeys, repeating the action that drew such a response, making her thighs tighten around his head. He uses the edges of his teeth to lightly scrape along her clit and the sensation makes her jump. “Mmm, Jake, god, your  _ mouth,  _ just...nngh, you have no -  _ oh _ \- no idea how many t-times I imagined this.”  He moans against her and the vibration shoots directly up her spine, eyes pinching shut and stars exploding in the darkness. “ _ Jake _ ,” she forces out, “c-can you slow down?” He jerks back immediately, like he just got burned. The absence of touch makes her eyes slide open to meet Jake’s worried ones.

“Amy, I’m really sorry-”

“No, h-hey, no, you didn’t do anything wrong.” She cups his face in her hand. “Seriously, trust me, you did everything  _ more  _ than right. I just r-really want this to last, you’re w- _ way _ too good at this.” 

His mouth curls into a cheeky grin at the praise as he nods, and she forces herself to loosen her grip on his hair. He eases up to give her a break, his tongue lapping at her more leisurely, but with just as much focus. He gives head the way he kisses her, with passion and care, repeating things that make her moan and vetoing the ones that don’t. It’s almost like he’s lazily frenching her down there, and it makes her light-headed. His eyes slip closed, his hands running up and down her thighs, looking utterly and completely lost in her. He’s so gorgeous and sweet and  _ romantic _ it makes heated affection mount in the pit of her belly; she’s never wanted to kiss anyone else on the planet as much as she wants to kiss him in this moment. 

So with a little effort, she relaxes her thighs, allowing her legs to fall to either side and thus free his head, and taps his jaw a lightly. He pulls back at once, licking her wetness from the corners of his lips before wiping the excess on the back of his hand, and she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that that’s an image that’ll be burned into her mind for a long time to come.

“Everything okay?” he asks, and she’s enamored with how his voice sounds, all rough and husky, so she cups his jaw and tugs until he’s crawled up her body and is hovering near her eye level. She just looks at him for a long moment, drinking in the sight of him, before she leans up and kisses him. It’s full of a thousand emotions too heavy and new to name, full of unspoken vows that will remain unvoiced for months on end, but more than anything it strikes deep in her very soul as a promise. It surprises them both just how different it feels from their previous kisses, more profound, and truth be told they’ll remember it for years to come as the kiss that first gave them the feeling that this - the two of them, together - was for the long haul. 

But that’s a realization for later. For now, they just feel, and when they pull apart, his face is ablaze the warmest smile she’s ever seen, tinged with the same reverent awe as it was when they were up at the Maple Drip Inn and she haltingly admitted that she used to like him sort of, maybe, a little. His caramel eyes are so vulnerable and open, full of sincerity and admiration, and it would absolutely make her faint if she were on her feet. “Ames, I…” he murmurs softly, trailing off just as he reaches up to stroke her chin with the pad of his thumb. 

“I know,” she whispers, “me too.” It’s a true testiment to their partnership that the words can be completely unspoken but she knows they both know what this half-conversation means. He smiles, big and wide, before pecking the end of her nose, which makes her scrunch her face and giggle. 

“I think I have some unfinished business to attend to,” he says with a suggestive pump of his eyebrows, and he scoots back down slowly, leaving a trail of wet kisses along her skin as he does.

Amy sighs in contentment, legs falling open a little more to give him better access. “Yes, you do,” she grins, and he’s still smiling when he licks her clit again with what can only really be described as complete relief at being reunited. She jumps at the sensation, laughing breathlessly when he lightly pinches one of her asscheeks, and when she meets his eyes he winks and it makes her hot all over again. It becomes clear that he’s not letting up this time, going faster and harder with his tongue, her whimpers and moans only serving to spur him on. Amy’s getting closer to the edge, her orgasm building again and promising to be even bigger than the first one would have been. His hands are running compulsively up her thighs and over her breasts, doing his best to stimulate the rest of her, but after a few passes one of them vanishes completely. She hardly has time to wonder what he’s doing, the thought only just barely forming as he slides one thick, gun-calloused finger into her, drawing a groan from her throat. He begins pumping in and out of her with his finger while steadily licking her clit, and just as she starts to toss her head back and forth on the pillow in blissful agony he adds a second finger and curls them on the in-stroke and it’s too much. She comes with a strangled scream and he licks her through her orgasm, prolonging the waves of pleasure and only pulling back when her thighs stop shuddering over his ears. He kisses the insides of her thighs as she pants and returns to herself, one of his hands drifting down to rub his dick through his pants and relieve some of the ache from how hard he still is.

She may be knocked almost completely senseless from one of the most intense orgasms of her life, but Amy definitely notices him trying to be sneaky. She sits up, leaning on her elbows, arching a brow when he pauses mid-rub to meet her stare. “I’ve been selfish,” she states, eyeing his busy hand. 

Jake scoffs, sitting up so he’s on his knees, his bulge eye-level with Amy. “Hardly. That was just as good for me as it was for you,” he smirks down at her and winks again before resuming the steady stroking of his cock through his pants, moaning when she openly stares and bites down hard on her lower lip. “I’ve never been so fucking hard in my life.” he mutters a bit deliriously. “Is it possible for a dick to shatter from being too hard? Cause if so mine definitely will.” She laughs and sits the rest of the way up, putting them face to face with his hand still on his cock.

“This is supposed to be your day to relax,” she nearly purrs, “so relax.” She presses a hand against his chest and pries his hand away from his crotch with her other, pushing him down to his back before crawling over him once again. He moans when she grinds down hard against his erection, leaving a stain of her own wetness on his pants over the very,  _ very  _ sizeable bulge straining against the zipper. His hands are anchored on her hips, clinging to her for dear life when she leans down to give him a fiery kiss. He tries to meet her halfway but her tongue just thrusts into his mouth forcefully, so he settles for panting into her mouth and reaching up for two handfuls of her still-glistening breasts. He does manage another grope but she only gives him a brief moment to enjoy it before she grabs his forearms and shoves him back down on the couch, pinning his wrists above his head with one of her hands. “Ah ah, you had your time, Peralta. It’s my turn now,” she grins, and he hums deep in his chest, finding her confidence sexy as hell.

“Mmm, love when you take control,” he groans, and she smirks, leaning down and caressing his tongue with hers. She shuffles a little further down his body without breaking the kiss and a moment later he feels her hands working quickly at his belt. She undoes it in record timing. “Looks like I’m not the only talented one here,” he mumbles against her lips and it makes her smile into the next kiss as she very quickly pulls his belt from his belt loops. It all happens very fast, or maybe it just feels that way because Jake’s so hard that most of the blood that should be in his brain is elsewhere. Before he can really process it, Amy Santiago is completely naked and holding his gaze as she dips her head down and takes him into her mouth. He’s got one hand anchored in her hair, guiding her further down his cock, unable to stop the babble that spills from his mouth as she takes him deeper and deeper with each bob of her head. “Amy, baby, holy fuck, I’m so hard, you see how hard I am for you? You’re so beautiful,  _ fuck  _ your lips are so sexy when they’re wrapped around my cock, you’re incredible, oh fuck baby,  _ yeah, _ ” and the new pet name has Amy wet all over again. She swirls her tongue around the head and sucks, and the sensation makes his eyes roll back in his head, a strangled grunt escaping his chest. She caresses his balls with one hand, and the sensation is intoxicating.

“God Jake, you’re so fucking big,” she gasps when she moves off of him to catch her breath, pumping her hand up and down his shaft, and he bucks into her mouth when she takes him in again.

“Ugh, yeah Ames, it’s all yours, I’m all yours,” he tells her, and he knows it’s the truth. She pulls back with a vulgar pop, resting her hands on Jake’s chest as they both catch their breath. 

“Jake?” she says tentatively once the silence grows less heated. Her gaze moves from his the planes of his chest to his eyes, and he tugs her closer, one hand on the back of her head to encourage her to nuzzle her face into the side of his neck.

“Mmm?” He manages, still completely blissed out, his thoughts a hazy jumble. 

“Make love to me,” she murmurs quietly, and it takes Jake by surprise.

Heat rises in his cheeks, and he feels like his entire body is engulfed in flames. He’s imagined this in at least a dozen different scenarios, sure, but he never imagine it happening tonight - even considering recent events - or any time soon for that matter. He doesn’t want to move too fast, recalling that the source of his downfall in several of his previous relationships, including Sophia, was his own eagerness. “Amy, are you sure?” He’s never wanted anything more in his life but he’s also desperate to quadruple check that this - that  _ he _ \- is exactly what she wants, because there’s really no going back for them if they do this.

Hell, there’s no going back for him already, if he’s being completely honest.

She presses her lips to his reassuringly before leaning back to look him in the eye and nod. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He goes slow, savoring the taste of her skin, slightly salty from the massage oil and her perspiration, and he really honestly can’t believe that it’s Amy Santiago he’s touching and kissing, that it’s Amy Santiago’s hands sliding across his chest and over his shoulders down his back to firmly grip his ass. She smacks one cheek lightly with a sly grin; the move makes him jump and then pull his head back to smile at her. 

“Amy Santiago, you dog!” He chuckles, and she joins him.

“I’m a fan of your butt,” she giggles, and he’s never been more attracted to her.

“Yeah? Thanks, I grew it myself,” and now she’s laughing even more and muffling the sound into his shoulder. He loves how relaxed the atmosphere is, how safe and special she makes him feel. He feels another surge of something deeper than adoration in his chest, and it urges him forward to capture her mouth in another mind-blowing kiss. It’s messy and sexy and explosive, their mouths melding and separating and coming back together with a frenzy. When they fully separate again, they’re both breathing hard. 

“I think we should take this to the bedroom,” she pants as he ducks his head to lap at her throat.

“Mmm, do we have to? Not ready to let you go yet,” he buzzes against her skin, and his tongue against her neck nearly convinces her before she snaps out of it.

“Mmmm, yeah, I think so. More room, more comfortable. C’mon, big boy,” she stands and pulls him to his feet, but then he suddenly stoops down. She yelps as he scoops her up to carry her bridal style to her bedroom.

As soon as he kicks her door closed he drops her to her feet and crowds her backwards, pressing her up against it, grinding his cock up along her belly and down between her legs, gripping her ass and lifting her slightly to get better leverage. His dick presses firmly between them as he sucks another hickey into her neck, and it makes her so wet feeling how hard he is, how much he wants her. She spins them around and he slams back against the door with an  _ Oof!  _ She runs her nails down his chest again, pinching one of his nipples and making him gasp before sliding down to her knees.

“Amy, _oh my god baby_ ,” he whines as she takes him in her mouth again, hard and deep, and he’s thrusting shallowly into her mouth, his hands tangled in her hair and watching his cock disappear between her lips again and again. “ _Mmmf_ _fuck_ , Ames, I’m gonna fucking come if you keep this up,” Jake warns, and Amy shows no signs of stopping, but she pulls back for a moment to speak.

“That’s okay, babe, we have plenty of time,” she smiles mischievously up at him, and then takes him back into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and bobbing her head faster and faster. Jake’s grip tightens on her hair and he’s slurring a string of praises and curses and then he feels himself hit the back of her throat. He comes completely undone at that feeling, his loud moans erupting from his chest and her labored breathing the only sounds in the room, rough and guttural as his hips rut involuntarily. Amy Santiago is swallowing everything his body is giving to her and it’s by far the hottest thing Jake has experienced in all of his years of living, and this moment alone more than makes up for his shitty day yesterday.

He’s panting hard when she finally releases him, and he pulls her back up roughly and kisses the life out of her, tasting his come on her tongue and feeling dizzy with desire. He walks her back to the bed before laying her down and continuing his assault on her lips, his hands grazing her thighs and breasts and shoulders and face while simultaneously grinding his hips into hers, her wetness spreading on his cock. She flips them over so she’s on top and breaks their kiss so she can mouth down his neck, copying his earlier ministrations as she sucks a hickey right above his collarbone, and she feels the column of his throat vibrate beneath her mouth as he releases sound after sound of ecstasy. She nips and bites up to his ear before kissing his temple and whispering, “You taste so fucking good, Jake. God I love your big cock in my mouth, you’re so damn sexy. I’ve never come so hard in my life.” This information pleases Jake, and he wants to show her how much he appreciates it.

He kisses her fiercely before shoving her back down onto her bed and quickly pinning her there, pushing one finger into her up to the hilt. “You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs as she moans loudly in pleasure, quickly adding a second finger before she can get used to the sensation. “So fucking wet, so beautiful, so sweet and fucking perfect. Are you gonna come for me again, baby?” He quickly shifts down the bed and nuzzles his mouth into her, not giving her a moment to get her bearings. In no time at all her walls are fluttering around his fingers and her hips are rising and rocking violently, so he speeds his digits up and hooks them deep inside her, making her moan as she comes hard on his hand for the second time that evening. He gently pulls his fingers out of her and sucks them into his mouth, licking every little last drop of her come off of them. The sight makes Amy weak, her thighs still shaking from the aftershocks. When she looks down, she sees Jake leaning up onto his knees, already beginning to get hard again, and the sight is beautiful. 

His chocolate hair is messy and fluffed, curled in all different directions from all her tugging and pulling at it. His lips are stained red, swollen and glistening from her wetness, accentuating them as he smiles charmingly down at her. His eyes are half-masted pools of liquid bronze, dark and inviting and filled to the brim with affection. His cheeks and chest are delightfully flushed a ruddy pink color which gives him an innocence that squeezes at her heart. His chest, sprinkled with a smattering of chest hair, is still rising and falling briskly as he catches his breath. His big hands run over her legs again and again, like he can’t get over the fact that this is real, like he’s assuring himself that this isn’t a mirage. The tight muscles of his stomach are expanding and contracting in time with his breathing, the slight pudge of his lower belly just begging to be bitten and marked up with hickeys. 

The dark thatch of hair that is his happy trail leads her eyes down to his half-hard cock, and she sits up abruptly to wrap her hand around it, which makes him jolt in surprise. One of his hands close over hers, and he helps her pump, thrusting his dick into their hands and growling. “Ugh, fuck, yeah, like that,” he says, and she keeps it up for a minute before she removes her hand. Jake jerks himself lazily, watching as she maneuvers her body down so it’s between his legs, him straddling her chest. Amy licks a line from the bottom of his dick up to the tip, and he shivers as she takes him into her mouth. He leans over her on his hands and knees, changing the angle so he can push into her mouth deeper. “Mmm, Amy, god, you’re so damn good at this,” he praises, and she absolutely glows with pride.        

Then he does something that’ll later be categorized in her mind as the hottest moment of her life so far. He spins around, his dick still in her mouth, and bends down to lick at her clit. She cries out around his hardness in her mouth and it makes him moan into her still-wet pussy. Their hips move in time, each of them completely lost in the bliss of giving and receiving mind-numbing pleasure. Amy’s never had sex  _ nearly _ this good. Hell, this sex isn’t even in the ballpark, it’s in the parking lot. Scratch that, it’s in the next city over. The way they respond to each other, how they move so in sync, so comfortable and yet still so new, it makes her hate herself for waiting so long for this, for them, doubting that Jake was perfect for her. 

She gives his dick one last suck before pulling back with a dirty pop, and he muffles his moan in her cunt, the vibrations making her thighs shake.   

“ _ Hnn, Jake, condom, _ ” she gasps, “Top drawer to the right.” He turns around so he’s facing her again before following her pointing finger, yanking the draw open forcefully and pawing through its contents before finding what they both so desperately want. He pulls the little foil square out and tears the wrapper off with his teeth, as eager now as he was the very first time he did this whole sex thing. She stops him with a hand on his wrist before he can roll it on. “Let me,” she insists, and when she sits up and rolls it on he can’t hold in the groan that rips from his throat. 

She takes advantage of her new position by shoving him back down and straddling his hips before reaching down between them and guiding him into her. The head of his cock splits her open and her head is spinning with the sheer pleasure of it, both of them shuddering and twitching until he’s fully sheathed inside her. She’s fairly certain that he’s in deeper than she’s ever had anyone before, stretching her in ways she didn’t know she  _ could _ be stretched. His hands are vice-like on her hips, screaming soliloquies about his self-control; she reaches down to cover his hands with her own, squeezing him gently, a wordless encouragement to start. 

And start, he does. “Holy shit, Jake, oh, oh,  _ oh _ ,” she chants as he snaps his hips up to meet hers, his hands on her hips to slowly lift her off of him a moment later. She circles her hips around before dropping down and it makes him shudder.

“F- _ fuck _ , baby,” he stutters, and the nickname spurs her on. She plants her palms on his chest, moving faster, the sound of skin slapping skin overwhelmingly tantalizing. 

“You feel so good, Jake, you’re so fucking big, so good,” she says, and she knows he doesn’t need the ego boost, but she can’t believe how much better this is than any other sex she’s had. He knows exactly how to move, exactly when to start driving into her with more force, exactly how to snap his hips into hers to elicit those desperate sounds from her, and yet, even when he’s pounding into her, he still maintains this air of gentleness, of respect and reverence. It’s in the way his eyes graze over her, as if trying to memorize every tiny detail of her. It’s in the way he keeps correcting his position based on the sounds she’s making, trying to please her the most. It’s in the way he holds her, like she might disappear at any moment. It’s more than sex to him, it’s an expression of how he feels without having to use words, and that realization makes her heart flutter.

“Amy, Ames,  _ baby, _ ” he chants her name like a hymn, and it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard, “Can you turn around for me? Please?” She doesn’t have to be asked twice, taking a minute to readjust, rotating so that her hands are braced against his thighs, her back to him, and she continues riding him, the new angle making something ignite deep in her belly. She cries out when he thrusts in just the right way to make a spark of pleasure burst inside her.

“Holy  _ shit, _ ” she exhales sharply, and then Jake picks up his pace and it becomes too much, him hitting her in that same beautiful spot over and over, and she can feel another orgasm building, the tension in her lower body getting tighter and tighter. “J- _ Jake _ , I’m gonna, uh, uh, uh, come, I, I’m, I’m gonna c-come,” she warns, and he doesn’t let up. He just grabs her arms and pulls her backwards so that her back is flush to his chest before continuing to rapidly ram into her. One of his arms is secured around her torso, the other snaking down her belly to rub her clit, and when he brings his mouth to her ear and pants, “Come for me, Ames, please,” and then licks behind her earlobe before biting it, she comes so hard that Jake brings up a hand to muffle the screams she releases. She rides the waves until she can sort of see straight again, and then she notices she’s completely limp on top of Jake, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He’s still hard inside her, moving ever so slowly, but her skin is overstimulated and sensitive, so it makes her thighs twitch. 

“God, I’m so…,” she trails off, her voice completely wrecked and her brain not unscrambled enough to produce a lucid thought. Jake hums in agreement against her shoulder, his hands gently running over her sides, his touch light as a feather. She watches his hands move over her skin for a little while, and she feels his hips slowly gyrating, his hardness still inside her, the condom over him slick with her come, and she feels so complete and whole in this one moment, bursting with affection for this man.

“Mmm, Ames, you smell so good,” he mumbles against her, and she feels his breath on her ear, making her shiver. She takes a moment to notice it smells heavily like sex in the room, and it also just smells like Jake, like his deodorant, like his presence. It smells like love and commitment, and also like they really need to take a shower. But she doesn’t dare to move, not wanting to break this quiet moment of peace where she can openly revel in just how happy she is. 

She recalls their first day meeting, how obnoxiously grating he was on her nerves. She recalls his inflated ego, a show he put on for the precinct, as if he was a peacock showing off his dazzling but obnoxiously bright feathers. She remembers the arrogance, and the power he held in his shoulders. She remembers his eyes, sparkling with humor and mischief as he took her in as she strutted over to her desk across from his. She remembers his eyes locking with hers, how she vaguely thought he was attractive, but his entire aura overpowered that thought like bad cologne. She remembers their first fight, how frustrated he got, the way his fists clenched and his teeth gnashed. She remembers his first apology, the way his eyes fell to her shoes as he admitted that she was right. She recollects their first hug, how warm his arms had been around her as she cried out of frustration for being unable to save a child hostage in time. She reminds herself of how many times she’d looked at his face for comfort, how many nights she’d thought about him before she slept, how many times she wished he’d been there to share in the joke or to cry with her or to hold her.

Over the years, she’s seen almost about every single facet of Jacob Peralta there is; she’s seen him excited like a child when he’s given a juicy case, she’s seen him angry as hell, slamming furniture around and growling in frustration, she’s seen him cry once, over his father, and she’s seen him so happy that his face nearly splits in half with how big his grin gets. However, she’s never seen this specific Jake Peralta, so soft and quiet and pensive, so intense and gorgeous and passionate, so dedicated and  _ loving _ . It makes her skin tingle as he continues to brush the calloused pads of his fingers across her skin over and over.

“Jake?” she asks. 

He seems to snap out of the reverie he’s in, his voice mildly surprised when he answers, “Yeah?” She feels slight hesitation at saying them, but the words bubble into her throat and come out before she has much time to think about it.

“I want you to come inside me,” she says. Nothing happens for a moment, and Amy starts to panic, thinking she’s crossed some sort of line. 

But then, in a quiet voice, Jake barely whispers, “Amy, I… are you sure?”   
She nods. “I’m on the pill and… I trust you.” 

In the blink of an eye, Jake is slipping out of her, sliding the condom off, throwing it in the small trash bin underneath her bedside table, and flipping them over so he’s on top and she’s on her hands and knees. He slips back into her, and it’s so good, no barrier between them this time except primal grunts and whispers of sweet nothings. The sensations are heightened, and Jake’s gripping Amy’s ass as he slides into her again and again in smooth thrusts, moaning as he leans his body weight onto her just slightly, his chest brushing her back with every flick of his hips. Amy is absolutely wrecked, fluttering around him, gripping the sheets so hard her knuckles are turning white, her back arching as she buries her face in the covers. The angle is tantalizing, incredible, everything he hoped and more but… he can’t see her face. Not like he wants to. And he’s close. He knows he’s not going to last much longer. He pulls out slow, Amy whining at his absence, before he rolls her over so her back is on the sheets and he’s hovering over her.

“Wanna see your face when I come,” he explains quietly, and she pulls him down by the neck to meet her lips in a soft kiss. He positions himself and then he’s back inside her, pumping slowly and tenderly, far more gentle this time than he had been previous times, taking every opportunity to tell her how beautiful she is, how much he cares for her, how incredibly special she makes him feel. Before long, his orgasm crashes down on him and he spills out inside of her, which makes them cry out in unison, and it’s the closest either of them has ever felt with another person. When he pulls out this time, they both whine at the sensation, and he glances down to see his come dripping out of her, which makes heat rise in his cheeks. “Oh  _ god _ ,” he moans, and Amy echoes it with a moan of her own, reaching her fingers down to gather up what she can before slipping them into her mouth. Jake growls at the sight, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s downright filthy. 

“You are so fucking hot, Santiago, I can’t even believe that just happened,” he stares at her in awe for a few moments before he kisses her again chastely and then gets up and heads to the bathroom that’s attached to her bedroom. He comes back a minute later with a washcloth and he cleans them both, as meticulously as Amy would. The sight makes her giggle.

“You’re not bad yourself, Peralta,” she compliments, a sly smirk on her face. He chuckles and then goes to dispose of the dirtied washcloth in her hamper while she goes to the bathroom to freshen up. 

They meet in the middle, both standing at the foot of her bed, their faces splitting into wide grins full of love and pure joy.

“C’mere,” she mumbles dizzily as she opens her arms in invitation, and he chuckles softly as he complies and pads forward. 

As soon as he’s close enough, she tugs him down onto the bed and into her arms, and he releases a breathless laugh when his weight falls into hers. She snuggles her face into his neck, and he rolls them to the side so that he’s not crushing her, and then he hugs her impossibly closer. 

“You’re the best,” he mumbles into her hair, brushing his fingers through the silky dark strands and thanking his lucky stars to be holding this woman in his arms tonight.

“No way. That is  _ definitely _ you,” she argues, but it’s without any vigor and her words slur slightly, her eyes slipping shut in exhaustion. He laughs and stares openly at her, his features awash in wonder. The feeling of their skin pressed together is comforting, and they both relax into the embrace, their breath mingling as they get comfortable.

“Well, this day more than makes up for the shitty day I had yesterday, and also every other shitty day I’ve ever had in my entire life,” Jake comments, and Amy laughs quietly, her smile gleaming in the low light. 

“I’m glad,” she mumbles, her hand finding his face and brushing over his jaw. 

“It nearly makes up for the fact that I had to call in a 4A,” he smirks knowingly, and her eyes fly open so quickly that it makes him laugh. 

“You called in a 4A?! You remembered what it was!” She exclaims excitedly, and he grins fondly at her enthusiasm. 

“No further assistance is necessary, but suspect is not in custody,” he recites, and her face absolutely lights up like the fourth of July. “Of course I remembered. You taught it to me. You’re a great teacher.”

She glows with pride and seems to swell in happiness at his praise, and it makes him delighted just to be able to make her smile like that. “I’m so proud of you,” she runs her thumb over his cheek, and he leans into her touch, “And also mildly turned on,” she adds. 

Jake cackles at that. “Amy Santiago, was three not enough for you?” he raises an eyebrow in amusement.

“I’m never going to get enough of you,” she mumbles, and then leans in to brush her lips against his. He hums contentedly in his throat.

“I could get used to that,” he smiles into the kiss.

She never does, and neither does he.  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> sIN WITH ME AND SEND ME PROMPTS/IDEAS/STUFF AT @foxcanoes ON TUMBLR YALL


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